Friday, August 14, 2015
Speaking of sink holes, this sinkhole came up as a topic at a dance I went to. I will get to it later. Since you have gotten this far in this post you probably have nothing better to do than to sit at your computer reading a bunch of nonsense — you are obviously not busy saving the world from evil, curing incurable diseases, or feeding your cat — so here it all comes.
Tonight I thought I would look around to find a dance to go to. I saw a place but I wasn’t sure if anyone spoke English. Sometimes I get nervous about doing things that may make me feel like a dingbat. In fact I will bet a lot of people are afraid of doing things that may make them look like a dingbat. (I am not exactly sure what a “dingbat” is — does it mean bats in the belfry?) Anyway there are times in a person’s life when you must just simply not allow your inner dingbat bell to ring, and have no fear of what people think.
So I went to a place called the Maxx Dome, I think it is run by Jimmy Gracemount. I took a picture and put it at the top. I think I mentioned several years ago how I learned to be a very bad photographer. I never wanted to waste good film, since it was so expensive, so my photographer technique was to get everything into one shot. The result was a bunch of pictures where people had little tiny microscopic heads and you could not tell who they were. Even though you got more bang for the buck as they say, the result was not as interesting as photos of people where you could actually see who they were. This resulted in torture for the poor souls who were forced to endure photo albums of page after page of microscopic heads with stick arms and legs in strange places that were not clear either. Anyway as you can see from the top I was back to my old habits. So I took another picture (left) of a fantasy outfit I threw together from some interesting freebie clothes to make the blog page visually more interesting. When I was a kid learning to read I always like to see some pictures in the book because at the time I thought it was like swimming without a nearby float if the page were nothing but words. And even if you didn’t know the words you could look at the picture to understand what the words were going to say. Perhaps it built some confidence or something. And of course one never wants to feel that they are a dingbat.
Anyway at the dance Chris Blackheart mentioned the sinkhole in the link above. I thought there was a Beatles’ song about holes in Manchester, but I was wrong. It was four thousand holes in Blackburn Lancashire. Anyway again I guess it wasn’t that important. And anyway number three I think I will put this post to bed, as they say in the newspaper biz.
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